A Flower to Call His Own
by PioneeringAuthor
Summary: As Spain journeys to find the Fountain of Youth, he discovers something even better. (A one-shot to challenge my writing skills to improve them by not using "to be." No gore, yaoi, profanity, or flying purple people eaters... but there are flying angry birds.)


**Dear Reader:**

 **Aronpuma suggested that I write a story with only two characters in order to improve the way I write about how people see each other. There was just one rule: never use any form of "to be" except in participles such as "he was walking..." or something like that. Well, I hope I abided by the rules and that you enjoy this.**

 **~+~ The pioneer with a heart for people and a thousand stories to tell ~+~**

 **P.S. The Scheming Turtle was my beta-reader, as usual.**

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 **A Flower to call his Own**

 **By PioneeringAuthor**

 **/\/\a/\/\**

Spain maneuvered through the grass, determined to find the Fountain of Youth, or something good in this vast, unknown land. It seemed that every time he turned around he discovered anothter swamp, wetland, field, river, or forest, but so far not the famed fountain, which dampened his spirits. Nevertheless, considering how gorgeous the land was, he felt that it MUST be here somewhere. As he continued forward, he questioned if it was wise to travel by himself and meet up with his men later, but shrugged it away casually as he assured himself that as a nation he couldn't die... or could he? Thinking about the possibility of death, Spain suddenly gulped and felt intimidated by the foreign trees surrounding him. For a few moments he surveyed the forest, then with a shake of his head he continued in his search for the Fountain of Youth.

Little did he know that someone watched him from behind one of those tall, elegant trees. As Spain plodded forward through the dense undergrowth, his armour clanked and groaned with every step, and he quickly made a mental note to improve his armour as soon as he arrived home. In the meantime, he endured his stiff iron greaves and his clanking boots and his large chestplate and all the rest of his gear, which felt twenty times more unbearable in the sweltering heat and humidity of this unknown forest. If he knew someone was watching, he may have been more thankful for it.

Meanwhile, the onlooker followed him silently through the bushes, watching his every step, noting his movements-how he slowly gazed at each tree in wonder, how he examined the flowers with care, how he clunkily stepped through the thick grasses while his strange silvery outfit glinted in the sunlight. Indeed, the spectator was very curious and studied Spain's every move. As Spain walked forward, the watcher followed him, wondering where he came from and if he came peacefully. The more the tall, brown-haired man clunked through the grass, the more the follower worried about his inner motives. Soon, the stealthy spy feared him as he trudged through the land.

After some time, Spain slumped onto the ground exhaustedly, wishing he brought more water with him, for he thirsted greatly and was not near a river... this time. Falling onto the ground, Spain groaned as he eyed the sky through the thick branches of the trees as he prayed that a raincloud would come and wash the sweat and dirt off his lightly tanned face. Soon he removed his helmet, glad for the light breeze which cooled his face and ruffled his brown hair. For a few moments he closed his green eyes and relaxed.

Suddenly, he heard something crack. He instantly opened his eyes and sat upright, feeling his heart race as he cast about the area, wondering what made that noise. Certainly there were deer and other creatures moving around-the forest was not silent, especially since the birds sang loudly, but this noise was loud, as if it came nearby him. Could it be one of the bears he silently passed by on his way here? Could it be one of those lion-like cats he fought some days ago? Could it be something worse? He steadied his breathing as he listened and waited for what was next, which could be anything. After a few moments, he saw some one of the strange fan-shaped plants shiver, and he drew his sword, preparing for the worst.

Something darted behind a tree, and Spain quickly leaped to the side to face it, and then gasped at what he saw. It was a little girl. This child watched him for some time and followed him, but slipped and snapped a rotten branch, then tried to flee, but as soon as the strange silver-coated man spotted her, she froze in terror. Expecting a monster and not a child, Spain gawked at her, pondering what to do as he quietly sheathed his blade. The short, petite, tan, brown-eyed girl whose dark brown hair looked matted with dirt and leaves, stared at him as he gently moved towards her with a calm look in his green eyes. Spain certainly didn't expect to find a girl in this wilderness.

Noting how the girl's eyes widened in fear, Spain halted for a while as he considered how to approach her. Indeed, he discovered plenty of natives, but they didn't look quite like this girl-could she live with a different tribe, and if so, where were her parents? The more he rolled the question in his mind, the more concerned he became-why on earth was a child wandering through this forest alone? It was inconceivable. Surely, she had some siblings or family, but where? As Spain studied her, he noted how unusual her clothes were- her deerskin dress was decorated with various bird feathers along the edges, and on her wrists hung snakeskins which looked as if a snake shed them and gave them to her, not as if she killed a snake and skinned it. Indeed, this girl was certainly different from the others Spain espied on his journey through this alien terf.

The girl, meanwhile, grew increasingly fearful every moment, and after some time could bear it no longer and screeched a bird-like cry in self-defense. Within moments, Spain heard a rustling of dozens of wings. He whipped his head upwards and his jaw dropped as he viewed a cloud of birds swarming above him. At that moment he recalled taking off his helmet and snapped his head down to look for it, but before he could grab it all the birds dived at him and proceeded to peck and claw him. Spain thrust his sword out with one hand while with the other he grabbed his cape and covered his face to protect his eyes from the angry birds, hoping to shoo them away. However, the birds continued to attack, and several strong birds of prey swooped at his hand until he dropped his sword. Seeing the blade fall, the girl chirped to the stronger birds and pointed to the sword.

Quickly, two large birds swooped and clutched the hilt of the blade, dragging it to the girl who took it and threw it into a bush so that the stranger would not be able to get it while her faithful birds attacked him. As the birds pecked and swarmed him, Spain attempted to bat them away with his free hand, but they relented not. At length, he curled into a ball, wondering if he may die today from an army of angry avion organisms hazing him. Spain pulled his cloak over himself, wishing he stayed behind with his men as he did his best to protect himself from the birds that swooped, clawed, screamed, and pecked at him incessantly. Thankfully, his armour protected most of him, but the birds still found ways to get in-between the various iron plates and pierce him, as if they were attacking a giant turtle.

Seeing that the tall man was subdued, the young girl calmed herself and with another trill she ordered her birds away from him. Instantly the birds flew to nearby branches and awaited further instructions. A few birds landed on the girl's shoulders, ready to protect her as she cautiously approached the man.

"Queen Singer, are you sure you should walk towards him?" A blue and light grey bird questioned her in chirps and scratchy noises.

"I... I think he won't hurt me, now that he knows how many friends I have," the girl replied with her own chirps and scratches.

"Queen Singer, tell us when and we shall peck his eyes out," a bright red bird peeped.

"Don't worry... I will," she replied in a soothing trill.

To Spain, the dialgoue sounded like birds chattering, and after nearly being killed by fearsome birds, he decided to keep hiding beneath his cape, even if the birds ceased their attacks for now. Meanwhile, the girl approached him, shakily touched him and then leaped back, afraid that he would harm her. Spain flinched under the touch, but realizing that he wasn't hurt by it, that the bird chatter ceased and that no birds were attacking, he timidly peeked under the edge of his cape to see what occurred next. Insted of a hungry beak stabbing him, he viewed two tan feet slowly walking towards him. Hesitantly, Spain raised his cape and locked eyes with the girl once more. The birds on her shoulders chattered to her, warning her to stay away, but she kneeled down and gazed at Spain gently.

Realizing that the girl wasn't going to harm him, Spain sat up, grimacing with the pains that ached all over his body in the cracks of his gear. For a few moments, the two eyed each other nervously. Once again, Spain pondered where this girl's parents lived and how she learned to control animals. Suddenly, it occurred to him that this girl may not have parents; she may be a nation like him. She may be a nation with no caretaker. Suddenly, things made sense: that was why she was alone-she had no home, for she lived everywhere. Of course, the answer seemed clear now: she was a young nation, scared, alone, at home here with the animals instead of with people. Spain's gaze softened and his tan face shifted into a smile as he thought of Romano back at home. For a few moments, he forgot his pain and decided to show this girl that he meant no harm.

Slowly, the aged nation took off one of his gauntlets and held his hand before the girl to inspect. Curious, the girl felt Spain's hand and squished his fingers in amazement as she understood that his hands were not silver-that was just a cover. With both of her tan hands she smoothed his one hand, noting the marks of hard labor and smoothing his wrinkled knuckles gently as she felt his tough skin beneath hers. Indeed, he was human after all, not some strange beast that was half man and half silver, and not some alien human-like creature. A relieved smile spread across the girl's features, lighting her eyes and complementing her beautifully as she timidly looked at Spain's green eyes. Spain grinned back at her and gave his other, still-gloved hand to her so she could look at that as well.

The girl felt his gauntlet, wondering what it was made of, and then looked back at him shyly. She eyed him, and only witnessed kindness coming from his eyes and his smile, so she allowed herself to relax some more. After a few moments, Spain ventured, "Do you have a name?"

He had no idea if the girl understood him or not, but he fetl that he should utter something at this point. Of course, the girl furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side like a confused bird as she heard the foreign words. Spain nodded with a kind smile, understanding that she had no idea what he was saying as he continued with, "I am Spain...Spain."

With that, he took the hand that the girl was not holding and pointed to himself as he repeated, "Sssss-p-ain." After that, he pointed at her and raised an eyebrow, trying to show that he wanted to know what she called herself.

Recognizing that the man wanted to know her name and gave his, the girl straightened and stared at the ground in thought. Every species of animal had some nickname for her-which one should she give? None of them seemed to be good enough, and the man spoke such a strange tongue that surely he wouldn't understand any. Hence, the girl withdrew her hand and looked away from him. The birds perching on her shoulders cheeped to her, trying to know what was happening while she quietly sighed, unsure of what to say to them. Compassionately Spain took his ungloved hand and moved her chin so that he could look into her eyes again. His love for children urged him to take her home, brush her hair, give her a name, and raise her, and he didn't want to deny it. Once more he repeated, "I am Spain," and he added, "and I shall call you Florida, for I see that you are a land of flowers... and I suppose I need a human name for you, in case my men ask what your name is... so... Florita, little flower. There, perfect!"

As he spoke, he beamed broader, and the girl found herself smiling back at him. Spain searched for the Fountain of Youth, but discovered a beautiful flower to bring home and call his own.

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 **There she is, my Florida OC. This was her big, official debut in a story. I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Please leave me a helpful review so I know how to improve this and let me know if you like it okay?**


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